


My apparitional faith

by StarberryCupcake



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Elves, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Style, Fluff, Golems, Grantaire is cursed, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Werewolves, Witches, a bit of blood but not too much, and other things you'll find out about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2240628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarberryCupcake/pseuds/StarberryCupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>He had spent the past ten years reading about the fae folk, demons and many other in-human creatures of the forest, trying to put some sense in his own form. But it seemed that when you were cursed by a magical entity, they were able to turn you into a creature that had never existed before you. As if Grantaire had not felt isolated enough before, he had been turned into a solitary creature which was literally one of a kind.</em><br/> </p><p>Grantaire is a cursed prince who thinks he has lost his humanity and lives in an abandoned castle with other exiled creatures as himself. Enjolras is a young idealist looking for the prince who should have been ruling to demand him freedom for the people. Grantaire has lost all hope in humanity yet Enjolras has nothing but hope in his heart. The story of a curse with roots as old as fear itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My apparitional faith

**Author's Note:**

> This is very different from what I normally do but I'll leave the notes and comments for the end, so judge by yourselves. Emilie Autumn is always an inspiration for me but, in this case, I went back to the Enchant album that I haven't listened in a while, so the title of this fic comes from Castle Down. If you are in need of background music while reading this, here is the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZtsJuSkG9Og), in case you have never heard it before.

_“He admired his opposite by instinct. His soft, yielding, dislocated, sickly, shapeless ideas attached themselves to Enjolras as to a spinal column. His moral backbone leaned on that firmness. **Grantaire in the presence of Enjolras became someone once more**. He was, himself, moreover, composed of two elements, which were, to all appearance, incompatible. He was ironical and cordial. His indifference loved. **His mind could get along without belief, but his heart could not get along without friendship**.”_   - Les Misérables, Vol. III, Book Fourth, Chapter I

 

The night was Grantaire’s favorite moment of the day. Or, wording it differently, it was the one he hated the least. He preferred to emulate the lives of some creatures from horror folk stories he had read about, some kind of blood-sucking demons, which were physically hurt by light and had to live at night and sleep in the mornings. Grantaire was not physically hurt by light itself, but he felt more comfortable in the darkness.

He had spent the past ten years reading about the fae folk, demons and many other in-human creatures of the forest, trying to put some sense in his own form. But it seemed that when you were cursed by a magical entity, they were able to turn you into a creature that had never existed before you. As if Grantaire had not felt isolated enough before, he had been turned into a solitary creature which was literally one of a kind.

So if who he was (or _what_ he was, he corrected himself) did not appear in bestiaries or field journals of daring adventurers, or even in oral folk tales of the land, then he was going to set his own ground rules for his own identity.

“You should not get used to the idea, my friend” Jehan said as zie set zir tiny fae folk feet on the garden of the castle “you might break the spell and become human again”

Grantaire laughed bitterly, not wanting to dismiss Jehan but not able to even consider the idea of becoming human at any point. He had never truly been one, if he was being honest.

“I would not know how, even if I had any interest in trying” he settled on saying, and let Jehan attend the garden.

One of the few places that looked as regal as they had been was the garden, and only because Jehan took care of it zirself. Fays were not usually amicable but they had met in an unusual situation: a group of humans had trespassed the forest’s limits and were intending to bring down an elder oak tree, one that Jehan regarded as an old tree spirit. Grantaire heard them entering and, not liking trespassers to cross the border, always scared them away with his appearance and, if necessary, inventing threats of powers he did not possess. Humans believed him, because they had never seen anything like him before. Sometimes, the isolation was an advantage.

Grantaire did not believe the tree to be a spirit of any kind, but it was one of the few childhood memories he still had, of growing up in that palace with no other children to play with, so he was not keen on seeing a group of trespasses tear it down as if humans could claim whichever piece of land as theirs. Jehan had insisted since then that his heart was good and zie had never gone away. It did not take much time for zie to understand that Grantaire was not a creature of the forest but a cursed human being, abandoned to exile in his old castle by a royal family who had fled to find better luck where they would be free of charms and vengeful creatures, free of Grantaire.

“Maybe true love can break the spell, it is what most stories say” Jehan smiled but Grantaire was not able to return the gesture.

“Then I shall be cursed forever” he said under his breath, before entering his ruined castle.

Grantaire was intending to live in isolation but Jehan was not the only forest creature who had come to his encounter. Somehow that abandoned castle in the middle of the forest had become the home of a group of other creatures, as exiled as he was.

“Going to your chambers so soon? It is not dawn yet!” Joly, a good-natured faun, approached him with a tray, filled with too much fruit for its capacity.

“I cannot seem to find entertainment of any kind” Grantaire sighed and kept moving towards the immense staircase, which had been grand a decade before but turned as sad and battered as Grantaire himself.

“Bossuet and I were about to play a game with Bahorel and Feuilly” he smiled mischievously “We were to ask Jehan and yourself to join, we will gather with Musichetta and Éponine once we have all we need”

“Does this game involve an alarming amount of fruit?” Grantaire did not turn or slow his progress in the stairs, he did not even turn around.

“Well, my friend, that is the fun part” his good humor was evident through his voice and, for a split second, Grantaire was tempted to reconsider his retreat.

“It sounds too much fun for my state at the moment, I would rather not ruin the game for you with my humor” he decided, turning to Joly then, an apologetic look in his feline eyes.

“Do not bother yourself, friend, we understand” he bowed gently and continued towards the door.

Grantaire was not always in a foul mood, especially not when he was among his friends. Bossuet, who had been Joly’s inseparable partner ever since they had met, was the child born from the matrimony between a human man and a female Ifrit. The couple had married out of love, but the village where the man had lived in eventually found out about the nature of the bride and of the young son who she had gave birth to and, fearing the bad fortune and infernal roots the species was associated with, they had followed them and killed his father. His mother had been able to take him to the forest, where they lived hidden from the humans for fifteen years until she too passed away. Bossuet had lived on his own for a few more years before meeting Joly and they had been inseparable since.

Musichetta, the town witch who descended from a long line of female sorcerers, had met them a couple of years afterwards, and they were the happiest people Grantaire had ever met, even if they were all outcasts on their own ways. Musichetta had never been able to live in the village, even if she was human herself, because her mother and grandmother had been chased, tortured and hunted by humans. She had escaped at a very young age and learned to fend for herself in the forest. She said that some creatures could be cunning or cruel but none killed for sport like humans did.

Joly had also belonged to a family once, but he had always believed that humans would not be as bad if they were properly guided. His family bowed to protect their territory by hindering and attacking humans who wondered too far from their path and got lost in the forest, but Joly was of a good nature and declined to hurt others if they were not opposing a threat. He was banished soon after and had lived alone until he found Bossuet. He had seen in the benevolent half-Ifrit another creature whose nature was to hurt others but was willing to fight against it and choose a path for good.

Grantaire had met them years before, they had been his first friends in those woods, but soon after his path crossed with two more rejects that were as lonely as he was. Feuilly was a half elf that had been born from a bad-intentioned seduction from a male elf to a female human. The woman had left him abandoned as a baby but Feuilly was found by the fae folk until ey had been able to fend for emself. Ey was a teenager when ey met Bahorel, an abandoned golem who had lost hir master in war. Feuilly was not accustomed to being with others, ey did not expect to be followed after being polite and kind with the creature, but Bahorel had spent too much time alone without hir master and responded to the kindness with undeniable loyalty. When Grantaire found them, he had initially believed, for that unquestionable friendship, that they had known each other all their lives.

But the one Grantaire felt more connected to was probably Éponine, who hid in the darkness and avoided humans as much as he did. Éponine was the daughter of a man who had contracted lycanthropy, unbeknownst to his wife. They had bared five children, but only Éponine, the oldest, had been born with the same condition. When a human, she had tried to hide her other self as much as she could, but one night the moon had caught her in the village, and the truth had escaped her. Her father had denied knowing of her form, since his own safety was still secure, and let her be persecuted by the townspeople. She had found shelter in the forest and Grantaire had taken her in once he saw her lying on the ground one morning after the full moon, her dark skin filled with scars and bruises he recognized from all the books of dark creatures he had read looking for clues on his own nature. Éponine was adamant on not receiving help, but once Grantaire had told her his story, they bonded.

The forest was filled with creatures, but even they had outcasts just like him. Half-breeds, undesirables, rarities; all of them were rejected but had found a place beside one another. Grantaire smiled briefly before entering his room.

“You!” he heard once he opened the door, and was surprised to find a silhouette in the dim light.  

“Who are you?” Grantaire stayed close to the door, initially startled by the unknown presence in his chambers.

Maybe humans were finally into hunting games, who knew.

“I was looking for you” he stepped closer but hesitant, as if he was measuring Grantaire’s actions “I need to speak to you”

Not being what Grantaire had initially expected to hear, he regulated the light of his lamps, making the room more visible, and what he saw seemed out of place in the old and battered room.

It was a man, a human, young and filled with life. He had soft fair skin, blond hair falling in waves past his shoulders and the brightest soft blue eyes he had ever seen. His brow was furrowed and his stance was defiant, yet he did not seem to carry any weapon.

“Who are you and what are you doing in this castle?” Grantaire tried to sound upset, threatening, but he was lost in the strangeness of the situation.

“Do you have any idea what you are?” the man asked, angry, and Grantaire thought he could have never asked for something more difficult for him to answer.

“Pardon?” he settled on inquiring, unable to respond.

“You are a _king_. And you have turned your back on the people” his voice was commanding, strong and doubtless.

Everything Grantaire was not.

“I think you are mistaking me for someone else, I am no king” he sneered “What makes you think a rotten castle that is crumbling to the ground has a living ruler on it?”

“You are the son of the king, who abandoned these lands to the forest creatures ten years ago. You did not leave, therefore are the true king and ruler of the land, no matter the state of you castle.” The man disarmed him with his eyes, gleaming with conviction “Am I mistaken?” it was not an inquiry, it was a threat.

A test.

“My father abandoned me as much as this land and I have not belonged to the world of the humans in a very long time, I have nothing to do with them…with _you_ ” he paused “I assume you come from there, do you not? Who are you?” he asked again, more and more intrigued with this strange man.

“I come to speak for the people and to demand that you either fulfill your duty and rule for them or depose your place and let the people rule themselves, as it should be” his voice was sharp as a knife and clear as rain.

“Let me ask this, spokesman of ‘the people’?” he pronounced it with skepticism “Who is ruling the land now and has for the past ten years, if I have not?”

“There is a council of men, unfair with their ruling, who only yield power for their own benefit and think not of the people. They are rotten and spoiled and do not hold the authority you are supposed to have. They will not listen to reason unless they see the true king demanding them to.” he was angry and his eyes filled with passion “They had abused their power for ten years and it is now enough”

Grantaire looked at the man in front of him and took time on the details. He had learned to observe, from a lifetime in that castle, and to find the identity of those before him in the smallest things.

“You bear no scars from the sun on your skin and your hands are not damaged or roughened. You wear fine clothing, not too expensive yet of decent quality. You carry in your neck a family crest engraved in gold and your shoes have not seen much walking. Could it be that someone on that council is also the one who has raised you?” he smirked with satisfaction when he saw the soft blush tainting the man’s face “So is this something between you and your father, then? Or is it that you want power for yourself?” he asked with venom.

The man’s eyes glowed with fury, and he closed the space between him and Grantaire, yet did not grab him or tried to hurt him. He just stared into his eyes with his brow furrowed and his lips in a thin line, not scared of Grantaire’s appearance or height, not worrying whether he could kill him easily.

“I am not proud of my father’s doings and I am only ashamed of having taken years to fight back. I cannot prove to you that my intentions do not carry other meanings and that what I want is for the people to be free. My hands are not roughened, but I have seen those who have them. My skin is not burned, but I have witnessed those who suffer from it and helped them as I could best. I have fine clothing on me but it is the only I possess, since I have given out the rest. And I wish I could get rid of this,” he took in his hand the necklace with the engraved crest “but it is the only thing my mother left behind except for myself before passing, and I cannot part with it yet.” His eyes lost some of their focus when he said that, as if remembering his mother was still a painful open wound in him “I wish I was more convincing to the people, but I am not one of them. I wish I was more of a threat to my family, but I am not one of them either. But I do not care who I am but what I fight for, and until there is freedom and equality in this land, I will be so.” He took a step back “I understand your skepticism, yet I shall stay until you truly listen to me. I have come a long way and I will keep advancing until I perish.”

Grantaire saw him more clearly then. He was like them, he did not belong, yet instead of running from those who did not accept him, he wanted to help them. To change things. How _foolish_.

“What makes you think I will listen to you eventually and care for humans?” Grantaire asked.

“Because you are one” he simply answered, as if it was the most obvious truth in the world.

“What part of me” Grantaire said with anger, gesturing at his entire being, his feline looking face, his harsh-textured skin, his long fangs, his menacing paws on his long fingers, his long ashen hair… “seems human to you?”

The man looked at him as if he was insane, as if his question was the most irrelevant in the world.

“Your heart” he answered, simply “The first thing you thought was that I was not here for the people but for myself; if you would not have cared, you could have done so many other things but you _questioned_. You are skeptic and unbelieving because people have hurt you. That is more human than any other thing I know.”

Grantaire, for the first time in years, was at a loss for words. He looked at the man before him, the image of beauty and conviction, who was certain of something Grantaire had been unable to see all his life.

“You must have had a very complicated journey, you can stay and eat downstairs, rest in one of the rooms, borrow clothing. But that does not mean I will listen to you or step into the land of humans in the future.” He turned around, about to exit the room “I am not a human”

“Thank you, Grantaire” he heard the voice of the man behind him and turned at the use of his name “I came here to find you, of course I know your name” he said with a small amused smile at Grantaire’s expression “I am Enjolras”.

Grantaire turned around and left, but could not stop thinking of the name and pronouncing it in his head for the rest of the night.

* * *

 

It was a cloudy day, therefore, Grantaire’s self-imposed routine demanded breakfast in the library. He passed though the kitchen, where he grabbed a bottle of one of Feuilly’s home-brew liquors, and headed towards his favorite room in the house.

When he entered, though, he was surprised by the presence of the young man he had met the previous night. _Enjolras_. He was turned from the door, carefully inspecting Grantaire’s numerous volumes on the plethora of shelves that covered the room from top to bottom. The gardens were in order because Jehan took care of them but the library was still standing strong because it was the only room where Grantaire felt at home. It had always been.

“I see you are feeling at ease in the castle” Grantaire said, taking some gratification in startling the man before him.

“I…” Enjolras seemed at a loss of words, which Grantaire considered a just exchange for how he had been the night before “Jehan and Feuilly advised me to take a look, I did not know I was offending you”

He seemed ashamed and a tad nervous, contrary to how he had been on their previous encounter.

“It is fine, you are not offending…and I should have guessed it had been one of those two who had sent you here”

“They are very amicable, your friends” a hint of a smile escaped Enjolras’s lips and Grantaire thought how luminous it might be to see him smile in earnest.

Too much light. He was not accustomed to it.

“They are a lot of things, I fear, but amicable only with those who deserve it. So you should feel flattered they did not try to rip out your tongue or curse you with bad fortune.” Grantaire took his place on a settee.

“I do feel flattered. They are incredibly interesting.” Enjolras’s eyes gleamed while he talked “Feuilly learned to read on eir own and knows many languages I thought lost. And Musichetta knows so much about medicinal herbs and the properties of elements I did not know existed.” he sighed “Éponine did try to rip out my eyes, though, if that makes you feel more at ease”

“She would do that” Grantaire smirked “I supposed you would get along with Feuilly, ey has the same equality and fraternity delusions as you, even if eir parents deserve none of it”

“I was seeing things in a very limited perspective, I recognize that now” Enjolras’s sight seemed lost in the volumes before him “I was thinking about the people of the land but I had not consider the ones here in the forest”

“I advise you not to call them ‘people’, they do not consider themselves human in any way” Grantaire opened the bottle of Feuilly’s liquor “And they do not care for fraternization with them either, at least not the kind you propose.”

“But they are stuck, are they not?” Enjolras turned to him then “They belong neither with humans nor with creatures. That is why your castle…”

“It is not _my_ castle” Grantaire’s voice was severe “It was my father’s and now it just is. The gardens are Jehan’s, the workshop is Feuilly’s, the kitchen is Musichetta's, the ballroom is Éponine’s, the stables are Bahorel’s, the balconies are Bossuet’s and this…” he gestured at the room around them “is mine.”

Enjolras looked at him and then at the bottle in his hand, frowning slightly and then turning towards the books once again, as if the sight of alcohol disturbed him.

“Why are you drinking so early in the morning?” he inquired as he passed a finger through some of the spines before him.

“It is what I call breakfast” he simply replied, taking another sip.

Enjolras did not respond but kept staring intently at the books, taking some from their places and looking through them to then deposit them back where they had been, carefully and respectfully.

“I have never seen so many bestiaries before,” he uttered, still exploring volumes “some are quite somber, I have never seen a creature that feeds solely on human blood before…”

“Neither have I, yet they exist in other lands.” Grantaire frowned “I suppose I am some sort of a collector”

“Why?” he turned, one of the volumes still in his hands “Are you interested in knowing all these species? I cannot say it is not extremely fascinating…”

“I was looking for myself” Grantaire answered before he could stop himself.

When he saw Enjolras’s expression, his brows furrowed and his inquiring eyes, he felt ashamed and exposed. He took another sip from the bottle.

“Well, that seems like a complete waste of time” Enjolras honestly commented.

“You think?” Grantaire laughed bitterly, more hurt than he would admit.

“Yes, you would not appear in a bestiary” Enjolras seemed puzzled “You are a human being, after all”

Grantaire looked up, unbelieving, and saw Enjolras staring. He had never witnessed a man being that honest, that disinterested. He had never seen a man who looked at him as if he was another man as well.

“I do not understand,” he shook his head, disbelieving “why do you keep saying that? Why are you not scared or repelled by my physical form?”

“I have learned not to trust appearances; besides, I find that completely irrelevant to tell who you are. I do not even care about whom you were before or why you were cursed, if the tales of you are true. I just need to know the man you are now and whether or not you can help.” He put the volume back in the shelf, still staring at Grantaire with conviction.

“Why are you so sure I could care?” Grantaire stood up, his bottle abandoned in the settee, and walked towards Enjolras.

“Because I think you do understand, you just lost what to believe in” the man walked towards him as well, only stopping as close as he had the night before, but without the intensity or the anger.

“And you trust I could believe in something?” Grantaire’s voice was tired, defeated “After all that has happened?”

“If I did not, I would not be here now” Enjolras smiled and it was not as luminous as Grantaire had expected but more.

But he surprisingly did not care for the light, on the contrary, he was amazed by it.

“ENJOLRAS!” an unknown voice called from below, someone entering the castle “ENJOLRAS, ARE YOU HERE?!”

“CAN YOU HEAR US?!” another voice, closely following the first.

“Courfeyrac…Combeferre…” Enjolras’s eyes left his and pronounced the names softly, under his breath, before running towards the door.

Just as he was exiting the room, he turned towards Grantaire once again.

“I hope you do not mind a little company” he said, apologetically, and left Grantaire frozen in his place, staring after his retreating figure.

 

* * *

Courfeyrac and Combeferre were Enjolras’s friends and companions in his quest for freedom and justice. And they were not alone.  They were followed by a young man of a freckled face and dark brown hair, who was carrying a bag that seemed as big as his own body, mostly filled with books in different languages; and a short plump girl with a bow and a quiver filled with arrows.

“Marius wanted to come along and we asked for Cosette’s protection” the man named Courfeyrac offered “I hope you understand” he had an easy smile on his face, brown skin and dark wayward curls.

“I do not understand why you are here in the first place,” Enjolras sounded more worried than upset “I told you I would do this alone, the forest can be more threatening than it seems, especially for people who have never been in it”

“The same applies to you, Enjolras.” the man called Combeferre adjusted his small spectacles, his face in a gesture of pure concern “You should have told us and we would have come with you. You do not need to do things alone.” He removed some of his chestnut hair from his eyes, also wildly disarranged as Courfeyrac’ and Marius’s, their clothes smeared with dirt and grass.

The group of humans talked to each other, animatedly sometimes and others with concern, while the residents of the castle observed them. Some regarded them with curiosity, others with worry but Éponine’s expression was the one Grantaire feared the most. She recognized someone.

“Éponine?” the boy with the huge backpack and the innocent eyes looked at her as if he was seeing a ghost.

“Marius” she said under her breath, and Grantaire could not guess if it was with fear or hope.

Maybe it was both.

“I thought you had died! They said so many different things in the village, I did not know what to believe…you father assured me you had passed” he ran to her in a friendly gesture, but Grantaire, with his threatening countenance, and Bahorel, with his rock-textured body, stood between them, fully alert.

“It is fine, he will not hurt me” Éponine assured them, but Marius stepped back.

“I apologize, I did not think…” he sighed “I am truly glad you are well, I thought I had lost my best friend” his smile was genuine and kind, yet Éponine did not return it fully.

It was all Grantaire needed to put the pieces together. This was Éponine’s past following her, a past of broken hearts and unwelcomed sentiments.

“I have told you many times, Marius, you should not trust my father,” she smiled, genuinely but with lack of conviction “even if you think he might have been helpful to yours long time before you were born”

Slowly, introductions were made and, to Grantaire’s distress, both groups started to converse in a friendly manner with ease. Jehan and Courfeyrac were talking animatedly, Combeferre and Feuilly seemed like long lost friends, Bossuet, Joly and Bahorel seemed diverted with Marius; and the girl named Cosette, who had not pronounced a word ever since her arrival, was the only one who stayed apart from the whole gathering, her bow still in hand.

“Euphrasie is the most skillful warrior in the land” Enjolras commented, as he stood beside Grantaire “her aim is perfect and her strategic techniques are one of a kind. She was trained by her adoptive father, after her mother passed…she was…she had been tricked by a Satyr and driven to madness.” Enjolras’s voice was soft and respectful “She does not trust forest creatures easily due to that, I fear. It is not personal”

“I thought her name was ‘Cosette’” Grantaire asked, not daring to comment on her past or present.

“That…she attempted to get on the Royal Guard…which is not ‘royal’ given that is not approved by or defending the king” he frowned “but the head of the Guard rejected her for being a woman. During training, the soldiers nicknamed her ‘Cosette’ to put her down, but she adopted the derogative with pride” Enjolras smiled “Needless to say she was gladly welcome to our group”

“I like her” Grantaire smirked.

“You do?” Enjolras turned almost violently, blushing in an alarming shade of crimson for his fair complexion “I would not want to…I do not mean to be forward but…I believe Marius and her are…”

“I was not meaning it in a romantic sense, Enjolras” Grantaire sighed “Putting aside the fact that I am what I am, one of the reasons my father felt it was pointless to have me as a son was because I do not feel attracted to women in that way and would wholeheartedly decline marrying one in order to bare his grandchildren in the future”

There was a pause, not long yet one that weighted heavily between them. Enjolras seemed to be gathering his words carefully and Grantaire felt nervous of what he would add to his statement. It surprised him, though, how much he ached to know what he thought of it. It was troubling.

“I understand,” Enjolras’s blush did not diminish “my father feels the same way towards me.” he scowled “Such prejudice and limited perspective, I cannot comprehend…the things he said to me, I will never forget them. I think it would have been worse if it was not for my friends.”

“I can understand that” Grantaire smiled softly, looking at his best comrades mingling with Enjolras’s friends in one indivisible group.

It seemed prophetic, like a legend that had happened before or a story that was to happen again.

“I cannot say I feel glad for how your father treated you,” Enjolras said, not looking straight at him “but I can say I thank that it is you who I found in this castle and not him.”

“Why? You think I am easier to convince?” Grantaire sneered.

“No,” Enjolras turned to look at him then, his eyes disarming, mesmerizing “because whether I convince you or not, I will still be glad I have met you”

The conversation remained unfinished, because someone suggested a feast would be a welcomed idea and somebody else echoed the plan until they were all agreed. It was uncertain then to state where the human group ended and the non-human one began and Grantaire could see the inevitable tide of change, sweeping through his life to take away what he had known for sure.

* * *

 

“It is preposterous!” Grantaire nearly growled and he was sure his feline face might have seemed intimidating, but Enjolras was not retracing his steps, on the contrary, he was closer, imposing, frantic “How can you expect that uneducated people would have the ability, even less the will, to organize a form of government? They would fall into desperation! Chaos! Which, maybe is the true order of things, maybe is how all things will end, but that does not mean you can call it a favor to hand them the Apocalypse on a silver platter!”

“It is not chaos what I seek for but _justice_!” Enjolras was outraged and his scowling face surrounded by his golden mane was as intimidating as Grantaire’s, yet graceful where his was inhuman “You underestimate the people as you underestimate yourself! They will respond to equality and liberty because free beings deserve and are born from equality and liberty. The moment we understand that our rights end where the others’ begin we will have enough empathy to…”

“You speak of ideals and not of truths!” Grantaire advanced towards Enjolras, his arms outstretched in a gesture of pure desperation “You cannot see past your fantasies of a world where everyone would respond in such a pure manner but the world is filled with terrors and hateful intentions, of despair and hopelessness, and you cannot ask those who cannot believe in themselves to believe in others like them!”

“Why are you so sure?” Enjolras stepped forward, defiant “You have not seen past the walls of this castle in a long time, maybe the world you are so afraid of has been transformed in your head into something more ruthless than it actually is”

“And maybe” he could almost taste the venom attempting to leave his mouth “you have not realized that the conception of your utopic world would not exist have you not been the privileged aristocrat that you were born as.” He looked at the crest in Enjolras’s chest and then at his eyes, accusingly.

He was angry. He was outraged. He was hurt. He was hopeless and Enjolras’s optimism was burning him like a scolding fire that was meant to illuminate his path yet it was setting him up in flames. But they were both playing with fire and it was Enjolras who got burned.

Something seemed to have broken in him as Grantaire looked at his family crest. His eyes lost focus, his countenance faltered and his words were paralyzed. He did not look at Grantaire as he crossed the room in a few strides to exit it hurriedly.

“What happened?” Courfeyrac asked, his face timidly appearing in the threshold.

“What did you do?” Jehan was next, less timid and more nagging.

“I just honestly offered a piece of my mind, as I have since he appeared uninvited in this castle” Grantaire huffed “It is definitely not as we have not had this conversation before”

“It has been six months, Grantaire,” Jehan kindly said, approaching him “maybe the comments he dismissed from a stranger feel different when they come from a friend”

“He does not think of me as a friend” he sneered “and six months is hardly a lifetime as to change things so much”

“A lot has changed, though,” Courfeyrac crossed the room with ease and even dared pat Grantaire in the back “maybe not your mind or Enjolras’s because you are both as stubborn as someone can be, but our world is not the same”

Indeed change had happened in their lives since the arrival of that group of humans. Feuilly had found a place between them with ease, sharing eir ideas with enthusiasm. Bahorel felt more like a part of a group rather than the fighting tool of others and had found that fighting for hir own ideas was even more fulfilling than fighting to defend those who owned hir. Éponine and Musichetta had taken time to get to know Cosette, since the soldier was keen on separating herself from non-humans, but as soon as they could break through to her, she had found understanding and a sense of companionship with those who had been stigmatized by their nature like she had been. Éponine let her past sentiments go much easier than Grantaire ever could and actually found in Cosette a true friend to rely on and someone with whom she could do combat training in the ballroom with much more energy. Marius and Cosette were still not an actual couple since they were both too flustered and timid to advance, which everyone found endearing yet truly exasperating. Joly and Combeferre had found in each other a sibling of mind and they shared conversations of knowledge that others found too difficult to follow. Courfeyrac and Bossuet were two pure souls who connected instantly, both honest and kind-hearted beings, and Jehan was delighted in seeing such a pure and gentle heart in a human as zie met Courfeyrac, who smiled brighter every time he saw zir.

Nevertheless, Enjolras and Grantaire shared a very different dynamic. Some days they conversed about everything and anything, about grand themes, like the infinite philosophies of the world and its mysteries; about minor worries, like the problems one faced while escaping unwanted dancing petitions in balls. They shared a smart and sharp sense of humor and were able to communicate without wording their sentiments. But other days they fought. Because they shared a smart and sharp mind, they exchanged equally sharp words that could hurt where it made more damage. Because they were able to communicate without wording their sentiments, they could be venomous with gestures, like Grantaire had been with only staring at Enjolras’s engraved family crest.

And Grantaire knew it was his fear speaking through him. His fear of the world outside. His fear of the monster he was. His fear of the feelings he was gaining for Enjolras every passing day.

“I am a monster and it is best if he knows that” he said, half to himself and half to the two friends beside him.

“He does not think you a monster, Grantaire, and nothing you can do will convince him of such a thing” Courfeyrac’s smile was bright and genuine like himself “He does believe you dislike him, though”

“What?” Grantaire turned, confused “Why would he care?”

Jehan sighed and was about to open zir mouth but Courfeyrac shook his head, stopping zir.

“Ask him” he simply answered.

* * *

 

“You believe I dislike you?” he bluntly repeated once he found the man sitting in a bench in one of the balconies, looking intently at the woods beyond them.

He seemed startled yet did not turn to face Grantaire, but his back arched visibly.

“Why would I think otherwise?” he asked back, still turned to him.

“Look, I am no good and you should not expect anything else from me…”

“Stop it,” he did turn then, scowling “I know what you think of yourself but it is not what I think of you”

“Why do you think of me at all?” Grantaire sighed “Why do you care?”

“Is it not apparent, Grantaire?” he seemed lost, desperate, aching to say the words burning inside him but did not dare to speak them “Is it not clear enough?”

“You are…” he closed his eyes, tired, defeated “you are so bright…so achingly bright and _good_ ”

“Grantaire…”

“You deserve the world you dream of, Enjolras” the words were escaping him, running from him, trying to reach the man sitting across from him before he could stop them “you deserve a world of peace and liberty and faith because you are made for it. You are strong and truthful and glorious and I wish you would stay away from me because I do not deserve this light, I…I care so much for you, but the last time I cared about something…I was broken into pieces and…what is left of me is not enough for the whole of you, Enjolras” he was looking at the floor, because Enjolras could look at the landscape before them but Grantaire could only look at the floor beneath them, his inhuman face in a pained expression, wishing against all hope that the words would come back to him and never leave again.

And then he felt that warm, caring hand on his cheek, gently turning that inhuman face towards him, looking into his eyes and smiling, and it was bright but it did not burn.

“You, Grantaire, are more human than I could ever be” he drew closer, his warmth enveloping Grantaire and illuminating him like never before “and I care for you more than you could ever imagine”

Enjolras’s lips were soft when they met his, and Grantaire felt the world stopping around them. He knew right that instant that what they shared was a bond beyond anything he would have imagined, that the love he had never believed in had reached him even unasked for. Enjolras was glowing with joy when they finally let go of each other.

He took him by the hand and guided him to the library, but Grantaire stopped halfway, letting Enjolras arrive before him, so he could look at his reflection in a mirror.

“I do not look any different than before” he said at his unchanged countenance, the inhuman body the curse had given him unmovable “I am still not human, Jehan was wrong” he smiled, still, and followed Enjolras to the library.

* * *

 

“I wish it was different…” Grantaire’s voice was weak as he held Enjolras’s hands in his ferocious ones, their foreheads touching and lips still close “I wish my love was enough”

“It is _not_ that, Grantaire, and you know it well” Enjolras embraced him and he felt the warmth for one last time, before he went back to the cold life he lived without him “My love for you will never change and you should remember that”

It had been two years since the day he had arrived. Two years in which their love blossomed, but Enjolras’s ideals had not weakened. His group had blended with Grantaire’s and had worked incessantly to find a way to free the people from the oppression of the ruthless government they were forced to obey and to bring the humans and creatures together and fight for the rights of those in between. Their plans were not perfect and their ideas were to be worked on, but their will was stronger than ever.

Yet Grantaire had never changed his mind. He did not feel more human, not even through Enjolras’s love. He did not look more human either. And he was still afraid of facing the world that had once rejected him.

“I will not ask this of you, Grantaire, because it would be wrong and unfair” he whispered “I respect your choice as much as you do mine and I love you more than ever” he retreated slightly and took off the necklace with his engraved family crest, the one that had once belonged to his mother.

They had talked about it once. Enjolras had received it from her the last time he had seen her alive and did not understand her message until he was older. She believed Enjolras represented the future of the family more than his father ever did and wanted him to become what he felt he should be. It was a reminder of someone who believed in him, someone who gave him strength.

“I do not need the reminder of her belief anymore” Enjolras stated “because I have your living trust in me today.” he handed the necklace to Grantaire and closed their hands around it “Keep it”

The kiss lingered but it was filled with the sadness of those who understand the inevitability of parted love. They had always been too different. But they had fallen in love nevertheless.

“If someone would have told me I would fall in love with a king, I would have not believed them” Enjolras smiled and despite the sadness, it was contagious.

From all the dark and terrible things Grantaire thought he was, that was the only one Enjolras was still puzzled by. 

* * *

 

Grantaire was the only one who had stayed behind. No one asked him otherwise, though; no one tried to make him reconsider. They had mentioned they would miss him, they had promised to go back and visit him, but they had not tried to impose their fight and mission on him. Neither had Enjolras.

He had been there in the first place to convince him to take his place or abdicate the throne, but he had learned to let Grantaire choose. They had talked about their different point of views countless times, in peace and at war with each other, so they understood.

Grantaire was not interested in ruling yet feared the day he would have to face the world that had given its back to him once before. A world of humans who hurt, who lied, who lacked all empathy and care for others. He had lived a life of disbelief and was content in his solitude but friendship and love had made him understand that he could live without belief yet not without his friends.

He remembered that day. It had been a long time since he had last remembered it. He had witnessed his first meeting of his father with his council and soldiers. He had seen how they wanted to proceed, charging the citizens to pay more for less or perish under the royal forces under the presumption of subversive behavior and denial to abide the rules of the kingdom.

If that was the world of humans, Grantaire did not want to be one. He had always been treated like a faulty human after all, and maybe he was. So he went to the forest, sat under a tree and believed with all his might that maybe he was the monster.

He did not know if it had been a fairy who thought it was funny, or a sorcerer who was seeking revenge with the kingdom, or maybe a spirit of the tree itself, since Jehan believed they had that kind of power. All he knew was that he transformed into the creature he was to be for the rest of his days and any glimpse of humanity he had left vanished into thin air to leave him empty and transformed. But only transformed on the outside, to match the inhuman soul he felt he had all along.

But Courfeyrac was right back when he had told him that things had changed. His ideas had not changed, his disbelief and skepticism in humanity had not changed but his hopelessness had found in Enjolras a guiding light. He did not believe in what Enjolras did but he did believe in Enjolras. He did not need ideals but he needed friendship and love.

For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, Grantaire left the castle.

* * *

 

The town was in chaos. There were soldiers everywhere, violently keeping the people away from the town council building, even if they seemed too scared to oppose any kind of threat to them.

Across the distance he could see Cosette and Éponine, fighting back to back with as many guards as they could. Bahorel was taking down soldiers with his incomparable force, yet the amount they were fighting was alarming. He could barely see the others, scattered as they were, using what they had to defend themselves from the oppressive forces. The only one who was not in sight, though, was Enjolras.

Grantaire advanced towards the building with purpose, determination written all over his inhuman features, so much that soldiers were intimidated by the sight. He knew how to seem ferocious; he had used it with trespassers and invaders for ten years. He saw Courfeyrac lying on the ground with Jehan holding him close, zir wings protecting them both from attackers. Grantaire charged at them violently and growled, scattering them elsewhere.

“Are you alright?” Grantaire asked and Jehan’s eyes were widely open with disbelief.

“Enjolras…” Courfeyrac said with difficulty “…is inside”

At that, Grantaire turned towards the building again and ran. He could barely perceive the figures of guards trying to chase him. They were only blurs at each side of him, shapes that he barely registered because he felt nothing could stop him from reaching Enjolras. The inside of the building was almost empty, though, and he was about to enter the door to what seemed like the main chamber when he heard voices.

“You ungrateful brat!” a man’s severe voice resounded inside the room and hit Grantaire violently “You could have been my successor and you threw it all away! Your mother would be so disappointed…”

A loud thud was heard and a groan of pain. Enjolras.

“This is not what she wanted…this is what _you_ wanted” his voice was filled with conviction yet sounded strained “and I will fight until I die if I have to”

“So be it, then” the man did not show any emotion on his voice and that to Grantaire was more frightening than any feeling he could have shown.

“STOP!” he pushed the door open with all his force and his loud voice echoed in the room like a roaring racket.

Enjolras was kneeling on the floor, held by two guards, while the man in front of him pointed a sword at him. His father.

“Put down the sword and stop your forces immediately” Grantaire was not looking at him or at the guards but only at Enjolras whose eyes were also fixed on him.

He was bleeding from his nose and from a deep cut on his lip, he had a dark bruise blooming on the side of his jaw and his arms were held on his back by both guards.

“And who might you be, to demand such a thing?” Enjolras’s father asked, looking at Grantaire with disgust.

“Your true king” he sentenced.

“I have no king, not since he left years ago to never return” he pointed the sword at Grantaire and Enjolras squirmed, trying to break free from the two men holding him down.

“I am his son and the man you have been ruling over” he walked towards him, closer to the sword “And I have come to claim my rightful place and give it to the people”

Enjolras’s eyes glowed with hope. Behind the cuts, the blood, the pain, the fear…he was smiling. Smiling for him.

“Man? you claim to be a _man_?” Enjolras’s father laughed and it hurt Grantaire more than the sword ever could “And you believe in the same foolishness _he_ does?” he was even more derisive in his interpellation to Enjolras, as if he questioned his son’s humanity even more that he did Grantaire’s own.

“No” Grantaire sentenced, and both Enjolras and his father turned to look at him with surprise “I think the world is filled with terrors and hate, of jealousy and despair, that the natural state of humans is to be selfish and would never be caring enough to rule for others and not themselves”

Enjolras visibly cringed and his father smiled with satisfaction.

“Then why are you here?” he asked with scorn.

“Because I do not believe in humanity,” Grantaire advanced towards him and the sword whose blade was threatening with its glistening edge “but I do believe in Enjolras. And if he was able to make me feel at least a bit human again, human enough to fight for him today, human enough to trust my own worth…then he can change the world”

Something happened then, something Grantaire could not make sense of. He was staring at Enjolras’s father and, as he said those words, he could see a bright light in front of him for a split second, not anything grand yet distracting enough to the others. As he saw Enjolras’s father staring at him in awe, he took the chance to disarm him just as Cosette had taught him one boring summer night in the ballroom of the castle, and threatened him with it.

“You will let him go, drop your forces and never come back to this kingdom again” his voice was determined and his pulse was steady “This land is not yours to claim and I know my fair share of creatures on its forest who would agree”

It did not take time for the man to flee the kingdom, together with the rest of the council and the captain of the guard, who had been taken down by Cosette and Éponine. But Grantaire’s priority was the man still kneeling on the marble floor before him and, as soon as the guards had ran, he rushed to him.

“Are you alright?” Enjolras asked him, hesitantly touching his face.

“Me? _You_ are the one bleeding!” Grantaire gently pulled Enjolras’s long golden hair out of his battered face, being as careful as possible with the paws on his long fingers.

“You have not noticed…” he frowned “There was light…and then your face…”

Grantaire’s hand fell. His eyes opened wide in surprise and hesitation. It could not be, his hands were still as menacing, his skin was still as dry and harsh, his hair was still a tangled grey mane.

“Can you get up?” he asked Enjolras, dismissing his own state for the time being “Or do you need to…”

“There is a mirror over there, on the wall” Enjolras offered “Go look, I shall wait here”

“But you are…”

“Go, love. I will wait.” He smiled encouragingly and kissed his cheek fondly.

Grantaire stood up with hesitation and walked towards the dreadful mirror on the wall. He had learned to hate mirrors, he avoided them with dread. But Enjolras was there, he was waiting. He stepped in front of the mirror and looked.

His skin was still the same, as were his paws and his mane, but his feline features were not there anymore. Instead, his human face, _his own face_ , was staring back at him, still with his golden feline eyes. 

* * *

 

The night was Grantaire’s favorite moment of the day. It had been for a long time, so it was difficult for him to sleep all night without waking. He let himself fall on the grand windowsill seat and looked at the vast forest outside the castle, the moonlight drenching it on its light and peering through the glass and into his chambers.

“Is everything alright?” Enjolras's voice surprised him and made him turn around.

He was standing with one of the bed sheets around him, a long white shirt also covering his body.

“Did I wake you?” Grantaire opened his arms and invited him to sit.

Enjolras placed himself in between his arms with ease, covering them both with the sheet and laying his head on Grantaire’s shoulder, embracing him tenderly.

“Is something troubling you?” he spoke sofly, his lips caressing Grantaire’s jaw.

“Do you think it will take all my life to change back?” he asked, staring at the landscape before them.

Grantaire had learned soon after that day on the council building that his change back to humanity was not only gradual but also powered by himself alone. It did not depend on someone else’s love for him or someone else’s decisions but on his own belief on his humanity, on his worth. And every time he came to terms with it, something came back. First were his features, then his hair, his skin was slowly changing back to its own dark complexion but the texture was still not fully his. His paws had not changed back either, and his eyes were still golden and feline. It was not easy for him to believe in his own worth after a lifetime of denying it, yet he was trying.

“Does it matter?” Enjolras sat straight and looked directly into his eyes “It will probably take all of mine to make this democracy work and help the people build back their lives, yet I am not worried of it. Why should you?”

Grantaire smiled and kissed his lips softly. Enjolras returned the kiss eagerly, burying his fingers on Grantaire’s dark curls. When Grantaire pulled back, Enjolras made a small sound of protestation that made him smile even more brightly.

“As long as you stay with me” he whispered.

“Every step of the way” Enjolras answered, placing his hand on his necklace, not only holding the crest his mother had left for him but also Grantaire’s family ring, the one his father ordered to be given the prince’s future wife.

They stayed intertwined in a warm embrace, looking at the vast forest before them and the world they were slowly transforming anew, just as they had with each other. 

 

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Before going further with the notes, I made a picspam/gifset of sorts to illustrate this story because this is a fairy tale and it was in need of illustration. [ Here it is](http://starberry-cupcake.tumblr.com/post/96401526695/e-r-fairy-tale-au-my-apparitional-faith-ao3). 
> 
> I honestly hope this wasn't too dreadful. I tried to do something fairy tale like without going too literal, so this is what it turned out like. My curse for Grantaire was mainly based on making literal some of the things stated at different points of the brick about him (hence the quote), yet making him more somber, so I could have gone too OOC there and I apologize, but I thought it would work better for this. 
> 
> The ones that are fairy tale creatures were paired up with humanoids that somehow connected with details of their canon selves as well, which I could explain here but it would take a million years. You probably noticed at least a few references.
> 
> I love my soldier Cosette and since her nickname comes from "little thing", I thought it could be ill-intentioned as well, depending on the context. So it's kind of ironic here. I would love to write her own story some day, but I don't know how this will be received yet. 
> 
> I didn't get to describe all of them as much as I'd wanted, they all have various cultural backgrounds which is why their species are so different (I also tried to match that diversity in the human side, but if I told you all my headcanons we would be here all day, maybe one day I'll get to write their stories too). I felt that if I went too far from the main story, it wouldn't be as fairy tale like, I don't know. 
> 
> I honestly hope it wasn't too terrible for a new thing (or at least the first time I try something like this in English and not my native language) and I apologize if I made a mess of pronouns, I tried to pay attention as much as I could but if you see a problem, let me know, because this is completely un-beta'ed. Thanks so so so much for reading, I really appreciate it a lot, you have no idea ♥


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